


What Follows

by Abitscrewy



Series: Dragon Age Drabbles [4]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: I am why we can't have nice things, Pain, Slave Fenris, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, This hurts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:20:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26109343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abitscrewy/pseuds/Abitscrewy
Summary: This is what comes in the days after the ritual.
Series: Dragon Age Drabbles [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1850767
Kudos: 6





	What Follows

_I am Fenris._

Everything still hurt. His master had been disappointed when his charge hadn’t recovered by morning, still hardly able to move, still entirely unable to speak. Now he’s lying in bed, staring at nothing. His mind wandering despite having nowhere to wander to. If he got too carried away he’d just go back to the beginning and pain would overtake him once more. It’s as if his mind walks in circles.

He flinched in spite of himself when the door opened. Every sound was a torment, eliciting a terrible ringing in his ears. A woman walked into the room looking rather sour and annoyed, carrying a tray. Water, bread, a bowl, and a rag. She had dark hair and piercing blue eyes, dressed robes similar to Danarius’, if a little less ornate.

“I am Hadriana. I have been charged with your... care until you have recovered. Far below my potential, as far as I’m concerned.” There was a venomous bite to her words and their tone, glaring daggers right into the young man. She scowled when he observed her, trying to get any sort of read on the woman. “Do not leer at me, slave.”

He gulped down the fire in his throat and looked back up at the bleak ceiling. She closed the door and walked to the side of his cot, setting the tray next to him before fetching herself a chair. She sighed and set the tray on her lap before removing the blanket covering him. He shuddered in the cold and let his eyes close.

The markings decorating his skin had been glowing ever since he left that coffin. Tiny drops of blood had pushed through his pores and dried over the Lyrium. The skin around them is red and slightly swollen. As fascinating as it was, Hadriana still loathed this assignment.

Hadriana was not gentle in lifting his head, nor in placing the cup of water to his lips. He made a pained noise, but she only arched an unamused eyebrow at his distress. It wasn’t until he felt the water on his tongue that he realized how thirsty he was. It stung as it went down, yet he savored every moment of it. He was almost disappointed when she took it away and set it back on the tray. He couldn’t ask for more. He couldn’t ask anything.

She wet the rag silently with a cold look in her eyes. Without warning, she began to clean his wounds. He sucked a sharp breath in through his teeth, already feeling pinpricks of tears in his eyes. She glared again.

“Be quiet, lest this bread go to waste.” She snapped, pressing down harder in a pointed action. His breath hitched but he obliged, gritting his teeth and trying desperately to control himself. She rolled her eyes and continued her work. Every part of the marking glowed brighter when she made contact and she made a mental note of it.

Eventually, it seemed she was finally finished. Fenris let out hitching breaths, almost gasping for air. His body shook with the pain, but Hadriana only let out a disgusted sound. She squeezed the sullied rag over the bowl and stood up. Without so much as a goodbye, she left the room.

He was left in a haze until she returned. How long had it been? His wounds still felt damp and crusty but he’d been able to breathe normally again, at least. The scene looked the same, except the glass of water was gone. She set the tray on the chair this time and set a hand on her hip. She gave him an odd look as if calculating something in her head. Then she pushed the chair away from the bed and hoisted him onto his side.

A visceral scream rose from his throat and she dropped him, summoning a bright blue glow to her hands and nearly knocking over the chair. 

“I said be quiet!” She scowled and kicked the bed, sending waves of pain through him. His breaths catch in his throat, eyes wide and vision blurred with tears. The magic in her hands faded and she grabbed him again, this time with more force than necessary. He was barely able to brace himself, wheezing as he was turned onto his stomach.

“You had better learn some manners, slave. I am not here for you. I am here at Danarius’ behest and nothing more. You will do as I say, do you understand?” At the lack of response, she huffs. “Ah, yes. I seem to have forgotten... The only sounds you make are sniveling whimpers and moans.”

She picked up the tray and set it on the bed, soaking the new cloth in clean water and beginning again. Somehow it hurt, even more, the second time. Whether it was from the other markings still stinging remains to be seen. Perhaps her anger had made her movements rougher. He’d held his breath to avoid making noise but only succeeded in passing out. Maybe it’s better that way.

The days passed in a similar manner, though she started to feed him before cleaning him once she noticed he’d always pass out during the process. She would make passing comments, always with that same venomous touch that made him shudder. He became accustomed to the words, almost finding comfort in their consistency.

He’d started to learn, though. If he was too loud in his cries of pain or moved too much, and hadn't passed out by the end, she would deny him what little extra food she brought.

At some point, Danarius had joined Hadriana to observe her progress. Fenris had barely registered it, only hearing muddled words from the both of them. At some point, Danarius had leaned over him, tilted his head up by the chin. 

“No eye contact. Interesting.”

-

For two weeks he was unable to move. Then Hadriana moved him, sat him up, and held him harshly by the back of the neck. She ordered him to move, sank her nails into his skin when he didn’t comply. She hadn’t told him how to move, what to do. When he finally found strength enough to do so, it was to weakly reach up and try to push her hand off of him.

She clicked her tongue. “Fine.” She let him go and he nearly fell back onto the bed. He managed to hold himself up on his forearms, straining and struggling not to make a noise. She smirked. “I knew you could move.”

He wheezed, pushing up onto his palms. He did it because he had to. If he didn’t then she would grab him again and he knew it. He didn’t need more pain. He set his jaw and sat up properly, leaning forward over his knees. Sweat fell in beads down his skin, further irritating the markings.

“I am going to bring Danarius. If you are lying back down when I return...” She doesn’t finish the thought, only a wicked smile across her face. He shrank but nodded slowly, and listened to her footsteps as she left.

Danarius had been surprised to see Fenris _standing_ when they returned. He’d been leaning on the wall, barely able to hold himself up, but it seemed to please his master. The older man clasped his hands together, almost giddy as he spoke.

“Well done, my pet. Soon enough we’ll have you in fighting shape! Hadriana,” He turns his attention to the bristling woman at his side. “Get him dressed, at least partially, and bring him to the courtyard.” He walked toward the door but stopped.

“You’ll be the talk of the keep, little Fenris. I look forward to seeing you work.”

Fenris wasn’t sure what to think of that. He merely nodded and forced himself to comply with the angry woman tossing a pair of trousers at him. She seemed offended by the idea of touching him. He was grateful for that, at least.


End file.
